CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

PROPOSITION

prop·o·si·tion

noun \prop-ǒ-zish-ǒn\

—a problem or undertaking, something to be dealt with

That night after dinner, Jolina, Lucille, and Jonathan stopped by my house. We all grabbed sodas and went to my room.

“Sit down, Ella,” Jolina said. “There’s something we need to talk to you about.”

I plopped on my bed and looked at the three of them. “What’s up?”

Jolina took a deep breath. “Mrs. Peghiny has a proposition for us.”

I leaned forward. “The ice cream parlor owner? She has a what?”

“A population,” Lucille said.

Jolina shook her head. “No, Lucille, a proposition. It means an offer. Every July Fourth, Mrs. Peghiny introduces a new flavor—something that’s unique, that only Peghiny’s has.”

“The problem is,” Jonathan said, “she says she’s just not sure what flavor to invent next—she needs some market research done. She called it ‘statistical analysis.’ And she thinks we’re the perfect people to help.”

Jolina sat down next to me. “She wants us to survey our classmates and neighbors to find out what flavors they want.”

“And as payment for our statistical analysis,” interrupted Lucille, “we can name the new flavor. And she’ll give us each a free ice cream cone every week for the whole summer.”

“That’s twelve weeks times four of us … forty-eight ice cream cones!” Jonathan exclaimed.

“Hold your horses, let me get this straight.” I set down my soda. “This is math, right?” I asked them suspiciously.

“Yes, Ella, it’s math,” said Jonathan.

A flash of lightning suddenly lit up the outside, followed closely by a tremendous boom of thunder. Sheets of rain poured down. I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and sighed.

“Wow! Look at that rain. Came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” Lucille said.

Jolina squeezed my shoulder. “Ella, it’s math but with ice cream! I say we do it. We can do surveys, graphing, and come up with some percentages. What does everyone think? Are we in?”

“I’m totally in,” Jonathan said.

“Me, too!” said Lucille.

All eyes were on me. “The whole point of scoring well on the math fair was so I could avoid doing math over the summer. Now, because we did a good job, I’m going to have to do more math?”

“Don’t look at it as doing more math,” Jonathan said. “Look at it as eating more ice cream.”

I was supposed to be working on my attitude toward math, after all.

Another crack of thunder sounded as lightning lit up the sky. The last storm hadn’t brought the bad luck I thought it would. Not in the end, anyway.

“Well,” I mumbled. “I guess I’m in. It is ice cream.”

I stared out the window. Another rainstorm. Another math project.

I heard Aunt Willa down the hall laughing with my parents. In my mind, I could hear her voice: just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you can ignore it and hope it goes away.

I looked at my friends. We made a good team, and with their help, I was sure we could do the work needed to get those free ice cream cones all summer.

“Bring it on,” I said and smiled.